


Scripture

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:17:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minifill written for a prompt on the Les Mis kink meme. Enjolras and Grantaire, D/s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scripture

The words hung on the wall in Grantaire’s front room, painted carefully in black in on white canvas, clear and obvious, easy to read. Grantaire had thought the commission strange when Enjolras had first asked, but he had complied willingly, readily, and made the piece ready to hang.

And hang it did, perfectly square and centre in the middle of the wall, Psalm 119:143:   _Trouble and distress have come upon me, but your commands give me delight_.

Grantaire had never really understood Enjolras as a man for scripture, and yet he knew now, if he were to question Enjolras, he could likely recite the Bible from memory. And this Psalm, this quote from the scripture, this was one of those that were very important.

Enjolras had whispered them in Grantaire’s ear, once, just before he’d dropped to his knees for the first time, looking up at Grantaire with his hands clasped together, as if in prayer - was that a blasphemous thought? Grantaire did not know. Enjolras would probably know, but at this point it would probably be rude to ask him.

Enjolras had his mouth on Grantaire’s cock, lips obscene around its girth, and he pulled back at a quiet order with a soft pop. And here he was, on his knees, his hair a mess, his lips wet with saliva and his dominant’s come, and he looked up at Grantaire with devotion shining in his eyes. This was not the first time, or indeed, anything like the first time.

This was substantial, experienced. They must have been at their thirtieth or fortieth attempt at this particular sexual act, now. How time flew in the flurry of young lovers and certain death come the summer. 

"Sir?" Enjolras asked, and Grantaire reached out to pet his cheek, the movement affectionate, fond, loving. Enjolras would not call any man his master, not even Grantaire, but it was significant enough that the blond would call Grantaire that in this time, in these moments they stole together. Enjolras bit at authority wherever it presented itself, snarked the inspectors who questioned their motives in the street, spat at bourgeois who tried to lecture him on abandoning his revolution.

And yet for Grantaire’s supposed authority, authority only in matters of Enjolras, Enjolras had complete and utter fidelity. 

"I just want to look at you at you a moment." was all Grantaire said for a few moments, and Enjolras smiled. Grantaire lived for that smile, and when times were like this, when Enjolras was worrying himself into complete anxiety over the plans, the revolution, they had reprieve. 

To see Enjolras like this, in ecstasy, in obvious pleasure, to see him content… This was all Grantaire needed in the world: Enjolras’ delight. “Continue.” He allowed, and Enjolras was more than eager to bow his head again to Grantaire’s cock again. 


End file.
